


cookies are great, but orgasms are better

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Baker Derek Hale, Blow Job Friday, Blow Jobs, M/M, Meet-Cute, Overachiever Jackson Whittemore, Stress Baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:18:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5296334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson’s come to rely on the magically appearing baked goods in the common room to help him get through long nights of studying. When he finally realizes he should thank the sugar fairy, things go better than he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cookies are great, but orgasms are better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yaoilover12397](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yaoilover12397/gifts).



> My second piece for Blow Job Friday 2015! Garnermesomegleeks on tumblr suggested that I write this prompt: _“You’re a stress baker and i stay up too late working and i’m writing a thank you note to the ethereal being responsible for the food magically appearing in the common room” AU_ And I had an absolute blast writing it. Some fluffy smut to start the day! Thank you so much to venivincere for the brilliant beta!

Jackson discovers the brownies during his first round of midterms his freshman year. At first he’s worried that they might be laced with something and he stands there staring at a platter of deep chocolate sugar, one hand out like it might bite him if he touches them.

“Don’t worry, dude.” One of the sophomores from the floor—Matt, he thinks—grabs two from the stack. “There’s this guy who bakes when he gets stressed, so any time he has exams, or a paper due, we get sugar. It’s good stuff, and the best part is, there aren’t that many of us who stay up late enough to enjoy it.”

Each of the suites on the floor has a tiny kitchen. _Miniscule_. Jackson can barely imagine cooking dinner (not that he cooks) in one, let alone baking brownies.

Or cookies. Or the cheesecake that shows up on the night right before Jackson’s IR midterm.

On the other hand, _someone_ obviously can manage to use the tiny oven, so Jackson doesn’t give a shit. He just settles into the corner of the couch in the common room and starts eating, consuming enough sugar to keep his eyes open into the wee hours, but let him crash just long enough to get a few hours of sleep. He usually takes something with him to eat while rushing out to the class in the morning when he misses breakfast.

The baked goods disappear once midterms are over, and Jackson kind of misses them. On the other hand, he gets more sleep and is less stressed himself, so it’s not a bad thing.

Until he realizes that it _is_ a bad thing, because after midterms his stress level doesn’t go down for long. It’s just a week or two before he has another massive exam in IR, followed by a thirty page paper in Soc 101, and a set of ten in-depth case studies for Intro to Psych. He starts spending every night in the common room, working until he falls over and sleeps on the couch.

He’s three nights into the cycle when he finds a plate of chocolate chip cookies waiting when he wakes up from a nap. Jackson reaches out without thinking and shoves one in his mouth, trying to keep the crumbs off of his laptop keyboard as he returns to typing as if he’d never paused to snooze.

It takes him until December before he realizes something important. Tomorrow is the last day of exams, and he’s deep in the middle of trying to get all the reading done for the third time this semester (read once to get to know it, the second time to really learn it, and read it a third time for memorization). He has a thick slice of vanilla cake with raspberry filling, and it literally melts in his mouth, exploding with goodness.

And he’s never said thank you.

Fuck, he can’t be like that.

He sets the plate on a table, sets his book aside (it’ll be there when he’s done with this, it’s only two in the morning, he still has _plenty of time_ ), and finds a blank piece of paper in his notebook. 

Then he stares at it, because how the hell do you say thank you to the sugar fairy?

He starts several times, but his stressed brain is simply out of words, and he’s pretty sure that psychological terms or a discussion of sociological niche isn’t the way to go about it. In the end, he takes a fresh sheet of paper and writes in big block letters: THANK YOU. J.

He stands up and goes to tuck it under the plate with the remaining crumbs, only to have it whisked from the table and another plate set down in its place, the chocolate chip cookies still hot and melty.

Jackson raises his head slowly, meets the gaze of the man standing there. His exhausted brain supplies a name and a year—Derek, a sophomore—and a handful of other random details that he thinks he’s overheard but by this point, it could just be a set of exhaustion-induced hallucinations.

“You’re the stress baker,” Jackson says, his hand still on the note that’s now trapped under the cookies.

Derek nods slowly. “And you’re the overachieving insomniac.”

It’s the first time Jackson’s heard that he has a nickname on the floor, but it really doesn’t surprise him. And it fits. “Yeah. That’s me.” He gestures with his free hand at the couch still covered in notebooks. “I have my last exam in the morning. This’ll be—it’ll make a good breakfast.”

“I could make you a real breakfast.” Derek’s voice is rough, and the tips of his ears are tinged with pink. “Eggs. Pancakes. Sausage.”

Maybe it’s the late hour, but Jackson can’t help the smirk that starts with the word _sausage_. He lifts one eyebrow. “Sausage?”

Derek’s brow furrows for a moment, then his lips press together and his ears turn a brighter shade of red. He coughs, and he raises both eyebrows in return. “Do you have a problem with sausage?”

It’s starting to feel a little like the start to the supposedly professional porn videos that Jackson sometimes watches when no one else is around and he gets a chance to _relax_. “Actually, no.” He lets the smirk bloom fully, his gaze raking over Derek. “I have absolutely no problems with sausage. Or breakfast. If you’re offering.”

Derek licks his lips, picks up the plate of cookies and holds it out. “Eat a cookie and pack up your things. If you don’t know it by now, you aren’t going to learn it at this point. And you need to relax and get some sleep before your exam.”

Is that an offer? 

Jackson takes a cookie, bites into it and savors the sweetness of the sugar matched to the dark chocolate chips. He bites back a sound just as Derek is turning away, and sees his footsteps stutter. “Where are you taking the cookies?” Jackson asks.

Derek glances back over his shoulder, one eyebrow arched. He glances at Jackson’s mouth, staring when Jackson takes that moment to lick away scattered crumbs and chocolate. The eyebrow goes higher, and Derek’s voice drops soft, “I’m in 315. And there are better ways to relax than sugar.”

Yeah. It’s an offer. 

“Just give me five minutes.” Because this may not have been what Jackson was thinking when he settled in on the couch tonight, but now that it’s been brought up as a possibility, his body is wide awake and getting ready for the main event. Even if he wanted to keep studying, there is nothing that’s going to help him focus now other than a really good orgasm, and even that’s more likely to send him to sleep than anything else.

Besides. Derek took the cookies with him, and Jackson definitely wants more of those, too.

It takes him more than a few minutes to get his things put away—he can’t let the notes get out of order, and he can’t risk losing any of it. But he manages to get it all stuffed into his bag, and he thinks about stopping in at his room to drop it off but it’s late, and his roommate’s probably asleep, so he might as well just take it with him to Derek’s place.

He knocks on the door as carefully as he can manage, and when Derek pulls it open, he asks, “Don’t you have a roommate?”

“Boyd’s girlfriend lives off campus, and he stays with her more than he stays here.” Derek motions for him to come in, points at a place in the common room of the suite to put his bag, then points at one of the two bedrooms. “He thought about moving in with her, but his scholarship pays for his rent if he lives on campus, so he has a room here that he never uses, and I effectively have a single. And it keeps Erica’s parents happy, because they think she’s living on her own and don’t realize she has a live-in boyfriend.”

“What about the other room?” Jackson’s been sexiled by his roommate a few times already this year, and he’s voluntarily sexiled himself more than a few times because whoever the fuck Isaac—who lives in the other bedroom in his suite—hooks up with is fucking _loud_. He knows firsthand how well sound travels within the suite.

“Gone.” Derek grabs two cookies off the plate, hands one to Jackson and heads into the bedroom he indicated while eating the other. “Everyone’s gone. Most of the floor’s already gone, Jackson. I think you and Matt are the only ones left who have exams.” His brow furrows, then he nods. “And your roommate. Mason, right?”

“Yeah, Mason. Brett left this afternoon, and Isaac’s actually still around, I think, but I’m not sure he’s even going home.” And it’s that line of thought that brings Jackson back to more conversation’s that he’s overheard. “Wait a minute. Weren’t you and Ennis talking about exams last week? I thought your exams were over on Monday.”

“They were.” Derek sits down on the edge of his bed, toes off his shoes and kicks them away.

“It’s Thursday now.” And maybe Jackson’s brain is full of information, but even he can see the discrepancy. Everyone else has disappeared as soon as their exams were over, far more interested in getting home than staying in a dorm another night.

Derek shrugs, pats the mattress next to him, and waits until Jackson sits. “I bake when I’m stressed,” he says, his ears a warm red. “But you _eat_ when you’re stressed, and you’ve still got exams. I figured you needed the sugar for fuel, so I stayed.”

“Fuck, I could kiss you for that.” Jackson means it, and when Derek just raises one eyebrow, he leans in, presses his lips to Derek’s with a small sound.

He’s never kissed a guy with a beard before, and it’s simultaneously rough and soft against his skin. He kind of wants to rub his cheek against it, so he does, stopping only when Derek drags him back in for another kiss, fingers fisted in Jackson’s hair to hold him in place.

“You need to relax,” Derek murmurs against his mouth, and Jackson can’t argue the point. He’s tense. He’s been tense for months, and really fucking tense for the last few days. Not to mention that one particular part of him is somewhere beyond tense and absolutely rigid already. Derek smirks like he can hear Jackson’s thoughts. “Lie down.”

Jackson’s perfectly happy to go with that instruction, stripping his shirt over his head before he lies back against Derek’s pillows. The three pillows leave him sitting up slightly, just enough to see the way Derek settles between his legs, nudges his knees up and apart. Jackson still has his jeans on, and his cock is a ridge, trapped by tight denim, but Derek doesn’t seem to care. 

He mouths at the denim, soaking a spot where the head of Jackson’s cock is. Jackson lifts his hips, then stills with a groan. “Fuck, I have to wear those tomorrow.”

“They’ll dry,” Derek assures him, but he takes a moment to undo the fly and push down his boxers, tugging his cock free. He doesn’t bother with the rest of his jeans, leaving Jackson’s balls trapped as Derek swallows him down, takes him into his mouth hard and fast.

“Fuck.” Jackson can’t help it, hips twitching up, fucking into his warm, wet mouth. He twists his hands in the sheets, holds on as his eyes close, head tilting back. It feels so _good_ , like Derek was born to suck cock. Jackson’s breath is already short in his chest, a low groan escaping. “Derek. God. Don’t stop.”

“It’s better when you wait.” The words are so soft, Jackson isn’t sure he’s heard them. Derek slows down, though, lets Jackson’s cock slip out of his mouth, strokes the lower part with one hand while he tongues the slit, keeps it wet and slick.

“Jeans,” Jackson manages to say.

Derek ignores him. Jackson’s close enough that he’s not sure he cares. So maybe he’s going to do the walk of shame in the morning and go to his exam in tonight’s clothes. Or maybe he’ll walk naked down the hall to get clean clothes. If it means he’s going to get off _right fucking now_ he doesn’t care. 

He whines Derek’s name, reaches for his head and holds on as he jerks up, cock sliding deep into Derek’s mouth. There’s a groan vibrating around him, and he thrusts again, loving the small pleased sound Derek makes. He opens his eyes, stares down at the way Derek goes down on him, eyes closed and focusing intently on every small move.

“I’m close,” Jackson says, and Derek doesn’t move. He just swallows him deeper, holds him tight in his mouth, almost in his throat, and he swallows. He sucks and swallows, hollowing his cheeks until the suction is too much and Jackson’s body twists, tight as he jackknifes up, gripping Derek’s hair as he holds in him place and spills into his mouth.

He falls back, limp, and Derek pulls away slowly, grinning as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You…” Jackson tries to say.

Derek straddles Jackson’s hips, and undoes his own fly, shoving his jeans and Under Armour down. His cock is fucking huge, thick and red, head pushed out from the foreskin. Derek jacks it with quick strokes, eyes heavy-lidded as he stares at Jackson, and Jackson reaches out to help, only able to wrap his hand around the head. He spreads the droplet of sticky fluid that oozes from the tip, and they jack him off together. Derek’s hips rock until they stutter, and he comes in thick stripes across Jackson’s chest.

It’s messy but weirdly hot, especially when Derek lies down next to him, one finger sliding through the mess as if to paint with it on his chest.

“I should go clean up or this is going to be hell in the morning,” Jackson murmurs. Derek raises one finger to Jackson’s lips, and he sucks it in, licking it clean. He’s never really been a fan of swallowing, but like this it’s just salty and a little bitter, and he doesn’t mind when Derek brings another finger up for him to do it again.

“I’ll go get a cloth in a few minutes. You’re relaxed,” Derek replies quietly. “Just lie back and enjoy it.”

“Mm.” Jackson closes his eyes; he could just drift off so easily. Orgasms are good, and stress orgasms are honestly the best. But he needs to stay awake at least until he gets cleaned up a little. “So… baking?”

Derek makes a noise, slowly stretches. “Yeah, it started last year when I dropped directly into Orgo instead of taking freshman chem.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I used to bake back home when I got stressed, so I figured I could adapt the recipes to work here. The oven’s small, but it works. It helps me get through without tearing my hair out.”

“Your baking is good.” Jackson feels the smile in the kiss Derek gives him, closes his eyes and drifts as the bed moves under Derek’s weight. Footsteps slap against the floor, moving away and then back, and a warm cloth slides over Jackson’s chest. He sighs happily, lifts his hips to help Derek get his jeans off so he can sleep comfortably.

By the time Derek is back in the bed, spooned behind Jackson with one arm wrapped around him tightly, Jackson hovers on the edge of sleep. “Cookies are good,” Jackson murmurs. “Orgasms are better. You gonna blow me in the morning before my exam, too?”

“Do you want me to?” Derek kisses the words into the nape of his neck.

“Yeah.” Jackson’s exhales on a sigh. “Orgasm before the exam. Celebration cookies after. Because I fucking deserve it.”

Derek huffs a low chuckle. “Of course you do, Jackson.” He lightly rubs Jackson’s shoulders, and sleep starts pulling Jackson under as Derek whispers again. “Of course you do.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!


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